


Leon Kennedy/reader

by withcameraandpen



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 15:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17748350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withcameraandpen/pseuds/withcameraandpen
Summary: You met Leon in a diner, and your life changed forever.





	Leon Kennedy/reader

You met Leon in a diner.

The Midnight Diner saw its fair share of Secret Service recruits, each fresher-faced than the last. They’d troop in at all hours of the day and be obnoxious, raising their voices over their coffee, playfully jeering at one another, and being insufferable before their training stamped the rowdiness out of them. Usually it took only a few stern looks from the wait staff to calm them down.

That night, you were working the counter. A dozen recruits had settled across three booths, alternating between coffee and the beer they thought you didn’t notice them sneak in. Bill the cook was a blur in the kitchen, rushing to fill twelve orders in ten seconds. Nicole, the only other server on staff tonight, had bravely rushed to his aid, though you knew better than to interfere with Bill’s process.

Scratch that—thirteen orders. One more recruit had walked in, but instead of joining his fellows in the booths, he perched on a stool at the counter, shoulders hunched and arms folded on the counter top.

Coffee pot in hand, you sidled up to his spot and filled his cup. “What’s your name?” you asked. “Unless you want me to call you ‘rookie,’ but most rookies get enough name-calling in training.”

He looked up and met your eyes through his blonde hair, and suddenly you’re not sure he’s a newbie anymore. He had a young face, sure, but those eyes were old and weary. She had seen new recruits come in exhausted, depressed, and dead-set on going home, but she hadn’t seen eyes that looked so haunted in someone so fresh-faced.

His voice was soft when he spoke. “How’d you know I’m the new guy?”

You latched onto the first words that broke through your surprise. “The unfamiliar faces stand out against the regulars,” you said, gesturing to the booths of trainees with your chin. You pulled out your notepad and said, “Can I get you anything else to warm your bones, Mister X?”

“Leon.” He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes dropping to a spot of grease you missed on the countertop. “That’s my name. My name is Leon. Kennedy.”

“Mister Kennedy.” Sometimes newbies were jumpy, but this Leon guy had a hair trigger for…you couldn’t even figure out what. 

He finally found his words again. “I don’t need anything, thanks. The coffee’s good.”

“Best in all of Maryland.” Your eyes narrowed upon the unsavory picture before you. Jumpy new recruit who looked like he’d seen much, much worse. Where did they get this guy? And how did he find himself in the company of future special operatives? “Are you all right, buddy?”

“First-day jitters,” he said tersely, and then he tried to cover his grimace with another swig of his coffee.

You knew first-day jitters, and this wasn’t them. But you weren’t a federal agent and you weren’t a suit in Congress, so your chances of prying the truth out of him were slim to none. And you shouldn’t want him to dredge up his sorry tale—and it was absolutely a sorry tale—but this Leon Kennedy was both wise and naïve, young and old. He was a strange puzzle, and you could never resist puzzles.

“In that case, coffee’s the last thing you should be drinking.” You took the half-full mug from him and brought it back to the kitchen, where you washed it out and filled it with hot chocolate (and not just the water and powder from the packet: you poured in milk and a dash of real, genuine chocolate syrup). Mister Kennedy was sitting at the counter, frozen in the moment of shock from when you disappeared. “If you want to get rid of jitters, hot cocoa’s the way to go. And ours is still the best in Maryland.”

You placed the mug in front of him, but were hit with a terrible realization. “Shoot! No marshmallows. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s okay!” You turned around. He was holding a hand out, gesturing for you to stop, and you saw him smile for the first time. It was a little smile, but it blew away the clouds in his eyes and hooked Kennedy into your heart. No, no, that wasn’t it. It was a nice smile. That was it. It’s a nice smile.

“It’s fine. Thank you.” He drank from the mug, eyebrows lifting. “You’re right. This is pretty good hot cocoa.”

The sound of ceramic hitting metal caught your attention, and you turned and found three dishes of steak and eggs had appeared in the kitchen window. “Hustle!” called Bill from behind a sizzling stove. “We got plenty more comin’!”

“All right, Billy!” You grabbed a tray and loaded the plates onto it. As you made your way out from behind the counter, you said, “I’m glad the cocoa agrees with you, Mister Kennedy.”

He chuckled, and you stopped in your tracks to watch, as if you didn’t see Bill’s ruddy face in the window frowning at you. “You don’t have to keep calling me that. I’m not a president. Leon is just fine.”

“You got it, Leon.” And as you turned on your heel and marched to the booths, you carefully preserved and filed away the memory of Leon glancing at your name tag, and then the way his eyes roved up and down.

 

&

 

It was six months before you brought Leon home the first time.

Secret Service training took about six months, and there were always the grads who, high on their own success, tried to proposition you. So imagine their surprise when you and Leon left the diner together, arm in arm. On principle, you never (well, rarely) went out with patrons, especially the recruits. But whatever lived between you and Leon was strong enough to bend that rule for just a night. 

And if it didn’t go well, then he’d be shipped off to Madagascar or Tokyo or somewhere so far that you may as well have never broken your own rule at all.

But here you were, hours later, wrestling Leon’s shirt off while his hands wandered over your form. He looked right at home on your bed, his face awash in moonlight as you knotted your hand into his hair. His chest was heaving, his hand tightening on you as you tilted his head up and pressed a hungry kiss to his neck.

“Stop!” He grabbed you roughly and pushed you off him. You were so surprised, you didn’t know what else to do but sit there, staring at him as he scrambled into a sitting position. Leon’s hands thumped softly against your comforter, searching for something. “Where did my shirt go?”

His words unlocked your stasis. You got up and went to the bedside lamp, the room flooding with light when you switched it on. His blue button-down lay crumpled on the floor. “I got it.”

You snatched it up and handed it over to him. As he pulled it back on, you saw, in the lamplight, the faint U-shaped scar on his shoulder. It was the bite mark you had just kissed.

“I’m sorry.” You sat down on the edge of your bed, hands in your lap. “I didn’t know. I never saw it.”

“I never told you about it.” He moved beside you, hands clamping down on the edge of the bed. He stared at the floor, and his eyes were closed. “I never told anyone about it. Everyone knew, anyway.”

Knew what? Yes, you had clocked his heavy heart the moment you saw him, but who was “everyone” and why were they entitled to knowing what haunted him?

“Leon, I had a really good time tonight,” you began. “I want to keep this up, and I’m getting the same vibe from you. But if we do, I need to know what just happened, so it doesn't happen again."

He looked at you. For the first time, his eyes were wide and young. They were scared. “I was in Raccoon City during the G-virus outbreak.”

You sucked in a breath. The handful of D.C.’s higher-ups that frequented the diner had spoken about Raccoon City, and you had seen the horrific pictures, few that there were, of the viral outbreak that caused the dead to rise again. The city’s sterilization had come at lightning speed. “It was my first day on the force. When we got out, the President came calling. Said they wanted someone with my experience. And when I arrived, word spread through the barracks pretty fast.”

Leon’s bite mark drew your eyes again like a magnet. He followed your gaze and then looked away. “They go for the neck. I barely got away from the one that gave me this.”

“I’m sorry.” What else could you say? He had lived a nightmare that had never touched you. What did you say to someone who had seen hell?

“I am, too.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know this was going to happen. I thought by now…”

He trailed off, and you sighed and smoothed out your own shirt. “You can stay the night, if you want,” you said. “I don’t like the idea of you going back to an awful bunk after that. I won’t try anything. And, well, when we first made plans, I picked up an extra toothbrush, just in case.”

He smiled gratefully at you. “Thank you,” he said. “I’d really like to stay. Salvage what we can.”

“Hey.” You smiled back. “I meant it when I had a blast tonight. And waking up with you is going to be even better.”

He chuckled and reached for your hand. Relief rushed through you when you felt his grip, warm but relaxed. You said, “Why don’t we go find a shitty movie to watch?”

“Actually,” he said, “I don’t want to impose, but I was thinking that maybe you can make some of that hot cocoa again, and we can talk.”

You beamed at him and stood, and he followed suit. “You really love that cocoa, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

 

&

 

You truly learned who Ada Wong was when she left you a Happy Anniversary card.

You flung the card toward Leon, which bore neat script and a lipstick print as a signature. “This woman knows our address, and you expect me to be okay with that?"

Leon scowled, snatching up the card from where it fluttered to the floor. “Ada has her ways. She’s scoped me out from Montreal to Moscow.”

“So she’s stalking you!”

“It’s not that.” He turned the card over in his hands. “We both want the same thing. At least, her clients do. But she saved my life. Over and over again, she saves my life.”

“Only after she gets what she wants, right?” When you discovered the card, you confronted him about it, and he wove these tales of a mysterious spy that flitted in and out of his investigations. You listened to them all (and, knowing him, he was skating over the parts you wouldn’t like) and tried to find what it was about this woman that was trustworthy. All you heard, though, was the admiration of a manipulative mercenary who was very, very lucky that Leon had a big heart. Ada was not to be trusted, neither with your fiancé’s life nor his heart.

“Do you think this is okay?” you snapped, grabbing the card from him. “After all this time, have you learned to like the danger? She’s a mercenary, Leon! She’s dangerous and selfish, and I’m scared she’s going to get you killed! Why else would she be keeping tabs on you? Unless—"

You broke off suddenly, but your beau knew better than to let the train of though run away. “Or what?”

You were already off the rails, so you may as well leap over the canyon’s edge. “Unless you’re inviting her in, because she can give you something I can’t.”

Leon fell silent, eyes wide. The worst thing was that he didn’t immediately react shocked. You saw the glint of recognition in his eyes. You told yourself it was recognition, and certainly not guilt. No, it couldn’t be guilt.

“What are you talking about?” Oh, he was still trying. But his voice was choked and his hands were balled into fists.

“Quit the act.” You sank into the armchair of your apartment, feeling horrifically small. “You trust her, even if it’s stupid. You trust her to watch your back and always leave you a way out. She can cover you in your world, and I’m just a waitress at the same fucking diner we met at—”

“Stop.” He knelt before you and locked your eyes with a hard, passionate gaze. “Who do you think keeps me moving while I’m out there? Whose face do you think I picture so I can put one foot in front of the other? Maybe Ada’s there, and maybe she feels like covering me, but it’s always you I’m coming home to. _You’re_ my world.”

A heavy silence hung between you two, his words pummeling your ears and his firm passion giving way to the nerves beneath. The longer you waited, the greater his awareness that he was standing on a sinkhole.

You stood, pushed him aside, and went to bed, wishing you could believe him.

 

&

 

It happened.

Leon’s assignments had become longer and more dangerous, and the wounds he returned with always seemed worse over the years. The growing ease with which people played with biological weaponry was changing the world; it was only a matter of time before they infected Washington, D.C.

And your little Maryland town was nestled right along the city’s border.

The virus broke out while you were at work. The television, which you had cranked up so you could hear it over the din of the crowded Midnight Diner, announced an outbreak of a lethal virus in the capital capable of reanimating its victims. Instead of evacuating the city, which every previous incident had made a priority, the brass were instead putting the territory in lockdown to prevent further spread of the virus.

Leon was in Washington.

You yelled something back to Bill in the kitchen and bolted out of the Midnight, racing to your car. You got on the road, pedal to the metal, and opened up the glove compartment, where you found a handgun and more ammunition than any reasonable person would need.

After the hells Leon lived through, he never felt truly safe if he didn’t have a weapon at the ready, but the idea of keeping a gun under his pillow would ensure you never slept again. This was the bitter compromise you had worked out: he keeps his government-issued firearm in the house (but in a drawer in the bedroom), and a personal one stowed in the car.

You pulled the handgun out and rested it on the passenger seat. There would be time to load it later.

The opposite side of the road was packed with people trying to flee despite the quarantine. Your lanes, though, were a ghost town as you sailed into the capital. Leon was being reprimanded for what he had called recklessness on his last mission, to which you were inclined not to believe. Everything weighed heavily on Leon’s conscience—he didn’t do recklessness.

Now, though, as you drove up the deserted streets, your own recklessness was catching up to you. What was your plan? Rip Leon out of his hearing, as though it hadn’t already been halted? And if you did miraculously get him into the car, how were you going to get past the lockdown? You had barely made it in before the barricades went up!

_Well,_ you thought to yourself, _if Ada Wong can do the impossible and make it out just fine, then I can, too._

If Ada Wong could solve a crisis, you could, too. If Leon couldn’t let go of her, then you’d show Leon you were worth holding onto.

The courthouse was up ahead. You sped towards it, when suddenly the road buckled and cracks appeared in the asphalt. You put the pedal to the metal, racing through the roadway while the cracks spiderwebbed out, and you found the car dipping lower and lower until you were sinking into the road.

You grabbed the gun, loaded it as quickly as your fumbling hands would let you, and shot at the windshield. Soon you were batting away glass fragments and climbing through the busted windshield and out onto the hood of the car. You made a flying leap for the edge of the road and managed to grab it and scramble up to the ledge.  
Until you heard a roar and felt hands clamp down on your leg.

You turned around and saw a creature clinging to you, standing on the hood. Maybe it was once human, but its eyes had gone white and rotted flesh was peeling off its face. Half of its teeth had fallen out, but that didn’t stop it from sinking the remaining ones into your calf.

“Get off!” you screamed, kicking wildly at the thing. It snarled at you again as it fell away, collapsing on the hood, and you scrambled up the ledge and back onto the road.

Gun in hand, you hurried up the marble steps of the courthouse, which was keeping the cracks in the road at bay. You limped into the courthouse, which was already deserted, save for a few listless clerks.

One clerk was hanging around the reception desk, pacing back and forth behind it. It was limping, just like you, and it was barely conscious. It must have already been infected.

But from behind the desk, you heard a familiar voice arguing with an alien one. “Agent Kennedy, we have to go!”

“Without that evidence, these incidents will never stop!” the familiar voice barked. You drew up to the desk and peeked over, where you found a stairway leading under the floor of the courthouse, and a certain blonde head climbing up the stairs.

The undead clerk lurking behind the desk lunged down the stairs at Leon, arms outstretched and grotesque mouth open wide. Leon pulled the trigger of his gun, but only a click came out. It was empty.

Your arms lifted and you squeezed your index finger. A bullet tore through the clerk’s head, and it collapsed to the floor. Your hands were shaking—you had never fired a gun at anyone but a paper target, for the few times Leon insisted on bringing you to a firing range. You thought he was being paranoid, that nothing like this could ever happen!

More heads reappeared behind the desk, and suddenly that familiar voice was calling your name. “What are you doing here?”

You had saved him. You saved Leon!

You lowered the gun and watched Leon hurry towards you, holstering his own weapon. Overcome, you threw yourself into his arms—a gesture you can tell he wasn’t prepared for, but returned it on a dime. His body was tense and his arms held you tightly. You buried your face in his neck, and you felt his chest rumble as he said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“The lockdown was on the news,” you whispered. You looked over your shoulder and saw a pretty, dark-haired woman emerge from the underground tunnel, very pointedly not looking your way. “I knew you were here. I couldn’t just sit by.”

Leon pulled away from you suddenly, eyes wide. “You came into the city for me?”

“What did I just say?”

“Christ.” He rubbed his eyes, and only now did you notice how covered in muck he was. Some was greenish, and some was a dark red. Some of it was on you. “You came into the city before it locked down? You would have been safe if you stayed away!”

“And let you linger here to rot?” you fired back.

“This is my job! They pay me for stopping disasters like this, because I know what I’m doing. I lived through this. I trained for this!”

“I just saved your life!” you retorted. “Was that nothing?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away from you, hands balled into fists. “Thank you,” he replied through gritted teeth. “All the same, you’re another possible infection risk now, which means you’re stuck here with us. Stay close to me, and keep your magazine full.”

You nodded and gestured over to the woman who lingered nearby. “Who’s that?”

“Attorney Carla Walsh.” She walked over then and offered her hand, which you shook. He asked her, “That evidence. We have to keep it safe.”

“Where is safe?” you asked. “The roads are falling apart. Buildings could be next!”

“Then we keep it with us, and hope we survive.” Leon took out his firearm and reloaded it. “We stick together until it’s safe. Whenever the hell that is.”

Walsh swallowed. “We’ll be okay, right?”

Leon didn’t answer. Your heart sank.

 

&

 

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“Don’t talk.” Leon was trying to be gentle with you, but the urgency in his voice was plain. “Save your strength. Walsh, how’s it looking?”

“Hospital is up ahead!” she called from the driver’s seat. “Get ready!”

Leon’s arms tightened around you. All three of you were drenched in filth, but now Leon was soaked in your blood. A bullet had torn you open, and Leon’s paltry first aid wasn’t doing much.

Your hand weakly clutched his once-crisp button down. This morning—had it really been this morning?—you tied his tie and reminded him to sit up straight. “I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted to protect you.”

Leon’s forehead was creased, and you saw something crack in his eyes. A dam, maybe. “Why?”

You lay your head on his shoulder. “Who knows if Ada felt like showing up?”

Leon locked eyes with you, and his whole body went still. The world outside could have done the same, or it could have finally imploded; either way, you wouldn’t have noticed. “Ada? This is about her?”

He shook his head and grasped your chin, tilting your face so you had to look at him head-on. “You came here because of Ada?”

You were bleeding out, and he had the nerve to argue with you? “I figured I should meet your mistress for myself.”

Leon swore. “I don’t love her. I love _you._ I told you before—maybe she feels like covering me, but I can’t love her.”

“Why not?”

He huffed and looked away, and you noticed Walsh’s eyes dart out of the rearview mirror. “Because she’s in this world. I can’t love someone in this world.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head, arms tightening on you. “I never wanted to be trained in this. No sane person would want to fight the undead for a day job! I love you because you’re an ordinary person who’s not in league with the government or with secret labs, and you never will be. I love you because you don’t know what my world is like. With you, life is ordinary, and it’s perfect.”

You sighed and lay your head against his shoulder again. Your fight had fled. How was it possible to have gotten it totally backwards and not realize this long? “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that.” They finally pulled into the hospital. The parking lot was crowded, but Walsh pulled into the emergency room doors. As Leon gathered you up and opened the car door, he said, “Say that to me after you get your clean bill of health.”

 

&

 

“I’m not going to learn if you keep doing everything for me.”

Leon glanced over his shoulder at you and smiled. You were perched on the lid of the toilet with only a towel wrapped around you. Your wheelchair, too big for the bathroom, sat outside the door. “Well, you were so absorbed in house hunting, I didn’t know if you would ever remember to bathe.”

“Are you saying I reek?”

“Of course not!” 

At his gesture, you unfurled your towel. He knelt down, lifted your naked form into his arms, and then deposited you in the bathtub. You settled in the warm water as he turned off the faucet, which had brought the water level threateningly high. “Care to join me?” you asked, batting your eyelashes.

He laughed, kneeling at the rim of the tub. “What happened to not learning?”

You grasped his hand. His thumb, like clockwork, ran across your knuckles. “You know, as far as house-hunting goes,” he began, “the doctors said you have a fair chance of regaining function. And so far, you’re getting around well enough, right?”

“A fair chance isn’t a guarantee, and it’s going to be a while until I’m walking again.” Maybe you had been able to get your wheelchair around your little apartment, but it was, by no means, an ideal. “Until then, I’d like to be able to fit into our bathroom. And I don’t want to need your help for every little thing.”

“I don’t mind helping,” he said quickly.

“Of course you don’t.” Leon would never mind helping someone—at least, he would never dare to admit it if he did—but you wouldn’t force him to remain at your beck and call. You were and had always been your own entity, with or without paraplegia. 

You traced your fingertips up his neck until they found his chin. “I already miss you,” you murmured. He was scheduled to return to duty tomorrow, as though the Washington outbreak had never happened.

“I can ask for more time.” Leon was on the ball today, quick with the answers and eager to help. It’s what made him such a good man, and what got you out of Washington. “Just say the word.”

You firmly turned his face towards you. “I will be fine,” you said. “One of us has to get back to work.”

He smirked. “I can always milk another stipend out of the brass,” he offered. “And we can keep living in luxury.”

“Do what you think is right. And in the meantime.”

With a little difficulty, you moved away from the back of the tub, leaving a nice Leon-sized gap between it and you. “For what might be your last night home, I insist you join me. The water’s fine.”

He smiled begrudgingly and let go of your hand, climbing to his feet. And as he stripped down, climbed in with you, and pulled you to his chest, you realized you were missing something that would make this evening with him absolutely perfect.

“You know, I could really go for hot cocoa right now.”


End file.
